Monday, March 31, 2008

We're listening

I love the background Mr former ALP unionist now head of the Liberal party has at his press speakies, the "we're listening" banner, where he's trying to convince people that the corporation arse hair sucking Libs are pulling their head out of the butt cheeks of big business and listening to you the ozzer public. Or at the least are licking the back of corporate Australia's leg as they cock a half distracted ear in our direction.

I suppose it's a nice change from 'going for growth' and my personal favourite 'mainstream values' which died an unmentioned death early on in the 07 election year.

The irony is that had they been listening they probably wouldn't have tried Work Choices on the Oz public. Correction. They were listening. To the gentle anal rumblings of Corporate Australia, who punched a arse hair bender down the brown highway to let their be-atches know what to do.

Nelson reminds me a little of Renfield from Dracula. "What master? Y-e-e-e-es, I will tell them I am listening. Then, when we're in, hee hee, it all comes back it does.'

Adious philty

The man who puts the Phil into Philtrum, Robert Mugabe, may be arsed.

May being the operative word.

I am in wait and see mode. Except of course how the fuck can any successive government, if there is one, repair the damage?

This may well all go to shit. I hope all goes as well as it can.

Second comes right after first

Thanks Grods!

Sunday, March 30, 2008

Sex worker sibling creates logical paradox, destroys robot

Sydney, NSW; Area sex worker, Justin 'Nine Inches, Cut' Johansen, today destroyed budding artificially intelligent self mobile computer AISMC-09#a when Johansen reveled in conversation to the unit that he was the creator's brother and that he was a prostitute.

'You know what they say,' added Johansen when his brother stepped out for a moment to work on some tricky calculus. 'Bros before hos'.

Because Johansen was both a "bro" and a "ho", the AISMC-09#a could not place either before the other, causing the robot to become trapped in a paradox loop which resulted in its head spinning at hundreds of revolutions a minute before exploding in a fiery shower.

Naturally this incensed Johansen's brother David, who holds three PhDs in various robotics related fields, who then set upon his whoring brother with one of AISMC-09#a's arms.

As irony would have it this is not the first Artificially Intelligent Self Mobile Computer Johansen has accidentally destroyed through paradoxical generated means. Number 07#b fell victim to a throwaway line from Johansen about 'whether God could create a rock so big not even he could lift it'. Similarly 03#1 was taken out of commission after David's command to seek out a hidden book of matches in order to test it's sensor capacity was "augmented" by a cheerfully added addendum from his brother who then informed the robot of the Zen riddle of '
When you seek it, you cannot find it', rendering 03#1 completely inert and unable to be rebooted.

Saturday, March 29, 2008

Dialogue that gets you right there


Del from Planes, Trains, and Automobiles

You wanna hurt me? Go right ahead if it makes you feel any better. I'm an easy target. Yeah, you're right, I talk too much. I also listen too much. I could be a cold-hearted cynic like you... but I don't like to hurt people's feelings. Well, you think what you want about me; I'm not changing. I like... I like me. My wife likes me. My customers like me. 'Cause I'm the real article. What you see is what you get.

Movie Meme - fvck it here's the answers

1) 'No, no, not at all. Could have been worse. Could have been called Hitler, Tampon, or something.'

The Tall Guy

6) 'Afro Whores, 2:30. Afro Whores, 4 o'clock. Afro Whores, 5:30. It says in the morning you watched The Grinch for ten minutes and then switched back over to Afro Whores.'

Rat Race

11) 'I'd like a report of all the incidents in the last six months. I'd like it soon, or I might just kick your nasty ass all over this room. That's a marshal joke.'

Outland

All these films are awesome. See them.

Pain Partner

Recently our work had a round of el-cheapie vaccinations. So I decided to get one. My co-worker and I went up and elected to go into the conference room together (normally it's one patient at a time).

I introduced him as my 'pain partner.' Then seconds later added 'we're not into S&M or anything.'

I swear the poor lovely elder nurse blushed.

Then whenever we talked we pulled back the imaginary zippers on our 'gimp masks' first, then zipped back up when done.

Awesome.

I was seriously considering opening the door a crack so the next in line could see me and whispering 'h-e-e-e-l-p m-e-e-e-' in a kind of throaty strangulated groan.

Anyway, the flu vaccination. Felt a little wiggy afterward but otherwise is fine. It's a good idea. I see in Crikey that Workplace relations decided the 50k spent to augment the costs on its staff wasn't worth it. Well done Workplace relations. Let's see if that risk management assessment works out. I bet you it won't given sick days Vs man days lost Vs salary etc.

Friday, March 28, 2008

Vinnie Jones Prestige Class

Requirements
To qualify to become Vinnie Jones, a character must fulfill all of the following criteria.
Skills: Intimidate, 6 ranks or more
Feats: Improved Unarmed Strike
Special: The character must be hard.
Class Skills
The Vinnie Jones class skills are Intimidate.
Skill points at each additional level: 2 + Int modifier.

Class Features

Weapon and Armor Proficiencies: A Vinnie Jones is proficient with any weapon that can fuck someone up well but good (anything that does a base d2 damage or higher).
Hard (Ex) The Vinnie Jones is Hard. He gains a DR of 1 Vs all weapon attacks.
Take It (Ex) Once a day the Vinnie can absorb up to Fort bonus damage from a single attack.
Take it More (Ex) The Vinnie can absorb up to Fort bonus damage three times a day.
Scare (Ex) The Vinnie is so Hard he scares people. If he manages to absorb all damage inflicted in an attack the Vinnie can make an intimidate action as a free action Vs the opponent (intimidate Vs Will save; if opponent fails then they are shaken until Vinnie says otherwise).
Well-hard (Ex) Even harder. DR of 3 Vs all weapon attacks.

Level
Base Attack
Fort
Ref
Will
Special
1
+1
+2
+0
+2
Hard
2
+2
+3
+0
+3
Take it
3
+3
+3
+1
+3
Scare
4
+4
+4
+1
+4
Well-hard
5
+5
+4
+1
+4
Take it more

Thursday, March 27, 2008

Fvcking junk mail

The other day I finally got my receipt for the hire car from my work trip. All the receipt info was on the first sheet of the fax.

The other three sheets were fucking ads.

Fuck you hire car company. If I wanted ads I'd be using a medium where ad use was the norm. I do not expect you to waste my org's time and resources by sending me crap I am just going to bin.

Toastus Vomitus

Continuing with the pig Latin theme (not really, but you know, sounds Latin but is not), today I had my third ever bout of post surgery vomiting up toast.

Time for some back story on toast.


I have had a long enduring love affair with toast. So much so that when I was a child I saw my reflection in a shiny toaster and decided it needed a kiss - and burnt the fuck out of my lips.


When I would come home after school, and this is part of the reason I am fat, I would easily consume 4-6 pieces of marg and honey laden toast before my parents got home. I used to have a fucking toast dance for fucks sake, where I would skip merrily around the kitchen table 12-14 times because I knew that was the amount of time needed to brown those bread bastards up nicely.


Toast and me are like this.

Even just pre surgery it wasn't uncommon for me to have a nightly toast sign off around 8ish. For me eating toast while reading was as natural as breathing.


Toast is the shizzle for this little fat duck.


So, post surgery, I cannot eat toast like I used to. In great beaming mouthfuls where I could barely talk. I have to take tiny little bites like Homer eating the cracker in the Scouts episode.


Even then I still have trouble doing it, since I have had these three bouts of toasty vom.
I think I will have to treat the no heel and no crusts as standard from now on. And go the strip method for good - which will force me to have bite sized pieces.

God I miss inhaling toast. I miss it so, so much.

"TOAST!", "T-O-A-S-T!"

And ... so forth.

Streamus Interruptus

Today whilst firing one at the white half shell I managed to pee dribble on to my pants. In the same way a large mass distorts space time, the presence of a belt when going the pull down method can distort the stream. In this case I hadn't quite cleared it. Thus wee went on my crotch in the manner of a champagne fountain.

Fortunately for all concerned being a shirt hangs out harry high person my urinatory failure was hidden from view.

The stupid thing was that I forgot the pants I wore had a zipper.

Q) Are you going to wear those same pants tomorrow HM if the stain is not readily visible?

A) Maybe...

Wednesday, March 26, 2008

Movies Meme - clues for the remainder

Okay the last ones are these. I will give a person involved in the movie and/or a genre as a clue.

1) 'No, no, not at all. Could have been worse. Could have been called Hitler, Tampon, or something.'

(A Richard Curtis Rom Com)

6) 'Afro Whores, 2:30. Afro Whores, 4 o'clock. Afro Whores, 5:30. It says in the morning you watched The Grinch for ten minutes and then switched back over to Afro Whores.'

(A Zucker Comedy)

8) 'Who the fuck cares? I'll dig the fuckin' hole. I don't give a fuck. What is it, the first hole I dug? Not the first time I dug a hole. I'll fuckin' dig a hole. Where are the shovels?' (Magic Bellybutton)[Goodfellas]

(Seminal crime thriller)

11) 'I'd like a report of all the incidents in the last six months. I'd like it soon, or I might just kick your nasty ass all over this room. That's a marshal joke.'

(A Sean Connery Sci Fi)

I hate skinnynistas

Skinnynistas are those slim, svelte people that look at us chubbos and can barely disguise their loathing for us. That we are walking flabby failures for having stacked on the pounds because we lack mental endurance. For you see we just can't pass up those delish danish's, friend foods, and fat soaked treats. And also we're lazy cunts that don't walk enough.

Damn you fatties! Damn you to hell! You deserve ute bound fucksticks conflating your obesity with the most fun organ in any of the two sexes' bodies.

One such Skinnynista is a slim attractive columnist for a major daily. Whilst cafe dining today I happened upon her column from early February where she was moaning about the fatties and how airlines weren't allowed to make super fatties buy two tickets for their seats. She whined about how disabled people should be allowed to not be forced to have two seats because they're disability is such that they have no choice but that if you're super fat then sucked shit fatty cough the fuck up.

If you're so big that you need to buy two seats then you have a medical issue. And yes while the columnist archly mentions there is a sliver of fatdom that cannot help their size (and thus I presume would not be punished with the twin tickets), by and large her argument still is your fattiness is a lack of exercise and simple willpower therefore cough up fatty - no excuses.

But again I say this. If you're so big you need two seats you have a medical issue. Chances are its mental illness.

Here's the thing. Fat people don't like being fat. We are, as the columnist demonstrates with her skinnynista column, the last of those that can be mocked - despite the fact that people in the west (which the columnist herself notes) are on average overweight. But overweight we may be we can by and large fit in an airline seat, even though said seats are not designed for comfort for the average person but slivered down to max out capacity.

The super fat do not choose to be fat. They are fat through either a physical issue (lightly touched on by Ms skinny) or a mental issue or both. No one, no one plans to end up super fat. It's not a fucking lifestyle choice. It's a life long curse.

Furthermore we live in a time poor, nutrition damaged society. Our media are filled not with images of healthy eating but of ironically skinnynistas scoffing down pizza etc in a haze of 'later we're all going to fuck' imagery. Western society, geared towards comfort in our living, activity, and eating promotes weight gain. Sure it's up to all of us to battle the many things weighing against us and stay trim for the country and health resources, but it's difficult.

For some of us, like the super fat who need two seats, it's reached a medical crisis issue. Super fat are disabled. Physically and mentally. And there's not a single fat person in the world that is happy about being that way.

Skinnynistas can only sneer. People like siad columnist haven't got a fucking clue what it's like to be heavy, especially for all of your young adult+ life. They don't know what it's like to be looked at as shit and not be sexually attractive to those they want to be attracted to them. They have no idea what a vicious cycle of crash dieting and manic exercise does to the mind and body. There's a reason why people put on more than they lost after manic weight loss programs after-all.

We are designed by evolution to put on weight and store it against times of lean. We've had reasonable access to food for what 70 odd years? And news fucking flash, those societies with access to reliable and cheap food put on weight. And skinnynistas become therefore the epitome of the sexual ideal - as evidenced by the fact that poor people are more likely to be fat than rich people in the west.

So Skinnynistas. Cram your skinnynista 'super fat are not disabled' up your tiny orifices. Until you've lived the life of a fatty you have no fucking clue whatsoever what they go through and the mental and physical crap they endure for being that way. Being super fat is a disability. Anyone that says otherwise has never, ever been fat.

UPDATE: I removed the columnist's name because I don't want her to have the satisfaction of getting hits out of it.

Coz I's learned it in blogland

A while back I blogged about my horrible hairball vomiting cats. During the resultant comment discussions Sarah and Gam recommended the newspaper method.

Tonight I heard one of the little fuckers arcing up. So grabbed her and held her over the newspaper. Her guts undulated against my hands like possessed bagpipes and out came her lung sausage.

Then into the bin the vomit clad paper went.

Thanks blogland!

Tuesday, March 25, 2008

Movie Meme

Lifted from MB and Gam/Sarah

No tagging, just thought it was a good idea. Anyway, here are the rules:

  • Pick 15 of your favourite movies
  • Go to IMDb and find a quote for each of the movies
  • Post them here for everyone to guess
  • Strikeout when someone correctly guesses in the comments, put who guessed it and the movie (I don't know how to do stikre thru in blogger so I will bold and ital)
  • No Googling or using IMDb to work out the answers

Okay then... Apologies for ethnic slurs contained within some quotes.

1) 'No, no, not at all. Could have been worse. Could have been called Hitler, Tampon, or something.'

2) 'It's 106 miles to Chicago, we got a full tank of gas, half a pack of cigarettes, it's dark, and we're wearing sunglasses.' (Gam takes it) [The Blues Brothers]

3) 'The 1st of the 9th was a old calvary division that traded in their horses for helicopters, and went tear-assing around 'Nam looking for the shit... .' (Gam takes it) [Apocalypse Now]

4) 'I'll bet you're the kind of guy that would fuck a person in the ass and not even have the goddam common courtesy to give him a reach-around. I'll be watching you.' (Magic Bellybutton)[Full Metal Jacket]

5) 'I've seen things you people wouldn't believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. I watched C-beams glitter in the dark near the Tannhauser gate. All those moments will be lost in time, like tears in rain. Time to die.' (Gummo Trotsky) [Blade Runner]

6) 'Afro Whores, 2:30. Afro Whores, 4 o'clock. Afro Whores, 5:30. It says in the morning you watched The Grinch for ten minutes and then switched back over to Afro Whores.'

7) 'Cause she's got a great ass... and you got your head all the way up it! Ferocious, aren't I? When I think of asses, a woman's ass, something comes out of me.' (Magic Bellybutton)[Heat]

8) 'Who the fuck cares? I'll dig the fuckin' hole. I don't give a fuck. What is it, the first hole I dug? Not the first time I dug a hole. I'll fuckin' dig a hole. Where are the shovels?'

9) 'They FUCK YOU at the drive-thru, okay? They FUCK YOU at the drive-thru! They know you're gonna be miles away before you find out you got fucked! They know you're not gonna turn around and go back, they don't care. So who gets fucked? Ol' Leo Getz! Okay, sure! I don't give a fuck! I'm not eating this tuna, okay?' (Gam takes it) [Lethal Weapon 2]

10) 'Thank you. But, in all honesty, the last three I backed over with my car. Luckily, they turned out to be drug-dealers.' (Gam takes it) [Naked Gun 2 1/2]

11) 'I'd like a report of all the incidents in the last six months. I'd like it soon, or I might just kick your nasty ass all over this room. That's a marshal joke.'

12) 'I have nipples, Greg, could you milk me?' (Sarah got it) [Meet the Parents]

13) 'But wouldn't it be great if number one this Christmas wasn't some smug teenager but an old ex-heroin addict searching for a comeback at any price? All those young popsters come Christmas Day, they'll be stretched out naked with a cute bird balancing on their balls and I'll be stuck in some dingy flat with me manager, Joe, ugliest man in the world, fucking miserable because our fucking gamble didn't pay off. So if you believe in Father Christmas, children, like your Uncle Billy does, buy my festering turd of a record. And particularly enjoy the incredible crassness of the moment when we try to squeeze an extra syllable into the fourth line.' (Magic Bellybutton) [Love Actually]

14) 'Lemme tell you what 'Like a Virgin' is about. It's all about this cooze who's a regular fuck machine, I'm talking morning, day, night, afternoon, dick, dick, dick, dick, dick, dick, dick, dick, dick.' (Magic Bellybutton)[Reservoir Dogs]

15) 'What now? Let me tell you what now. I'ma call a coupla hard, pipe-hittin' niggers, who'll go to work on the homes here with a pair of pliers and a blow torch. You hear me talkin', hillbilly boy? I ain't through with you by a damn sight. I'ma get medieval on your ass.' (Gam takes it) [Pulp Fiction]

I remember when your flesh mother used to bring me pudding

On Sat I came home from a work trip. TheWife is away with theBoy visiting friends and her sister. So I had the house to myself.

It wasn't until this morning I had discovered that I had left my toothbrush in Sydney.

Yep. I went Sat night, and all of Sunday and Monday without once thinking I had to clean my teeth.

In my defence I think I left the house once on Monday night to put the bins out. The rest of the time I spent bunkered at home catching up with some home alone time. So it's not like I was having to be near people.

Actually that's no defence. It's not a tree in the forest falls does it make a sound issue. It's basic fucking hygiene.

Anyway this morning was spent purchasing breath mints from the cafe downstairs (needed for my employee to boss assessment - which I passed with the top rating) and convincing a friend to drive me to the shops so I could spring for a new brush.

I got a pink brush. Because I am that confident in my heterosexuality that it bothers me not to stick a pink object in and out of my mouth. Esp one that has pleasurable mouth vibrations.

Is it just me or should they check the dad isn't dead too?

More spam action

Lately I've been getting spam mail ... from myself. Anyone know how to stop that apart from establishing rules in your Outlook to delete mail sent from yourself?

More fvcked spam

Greetings!

You have a chance to start making 1200+ AUD a week spending 1-2 hours a day Monday-Friday, working most of the time from
home.

This opportunity is brought to you by HCC Sales Company and now is hiring!

You received this offer via Worldwide net of advertisement brought to you via paid ads by Google.

If you are looking for an additional job or just an extra income - this position is for you.

Designed for an ease of use and the best position available nowadays, time wise and income wise.

Although some requirements need to be met:

You are 18+ years old*
You have 1-2 hours of free time a day Monday-Friday*
You are responsible and dependable*
You are located in Australia only*

-----

Some reference:

"Best offer on The Net" - "Money" magazine, -John Keppke.
"Employment situation has gotten on a new level" - "The Economist" magazine, -Laura Star.
"Amazing solution for Extra Income" - "Newsweek" magazine, -Dennis Coleman.

-----

If you meet all requirements - don't hesitate to get more information on this great position called "Fund Operator".

Reply to: hcc.mainads@gmail.com with

subject "Interested" to receive full information on this great position. Limited time offer, don't wait! And Good luck.

You know what I love about this? The 'Reference' (sic). They are truly stellar. By the way fuckstick, what kind of fuckwit would respond to a company offer that's being operated out of a gmail account?

A challenge

When you hear 'Transformers, robots in the sky' that you will not instead mentally replace the lyrics with 'Pink torpedo, thrusting at your eye'.

That is my gift to you.

Saturday, March 22, 2008

Rolling Gold

Footloose

Finally saw it. Well, most of it since the -ing disk just fritzed.

Anyway, from what I did see - I liked it. I esp liked seeing Chris Penn as one of the main leads.

And too it showed me the joys of ... the angry dance. Pent up? Life making you mad? Don't be coy. Power your VW into an abandoned train warehouse, drink two mouthfuls of beer then smash the bottle on the ground, then start angry dancing (but make sure to have the smashed beer appear briefly still in shot on the roof of your car). Lots, and lots of banging into lumber pile walls - and swinging off a cable like Tarzan followed by some high powered gymnastics.

Angry dancing. Good for what ails you.

Fvcked DVDs

Don't you hate it when the DVD you're watching glitches and you miss out the last eight minutes of the movie?!

I really hate that. It seems to happen a lot with shop DVDs too.

Fuckers.

Go B...

I had the fortune to meet an exchange student from Germany recently. He came along with a friend of mine to a fair. B tied a few on, as did the friend. Earlier that day B had gone into a stall that was selling replica swords. One of them was an SS officer's sword. B was a tad upset given the sensitivities of such a thing in his country (it being illegal and considered immoral).

It was now afternoon and B insisted on talking to the sword seller direct about it. He wanted to know why Australians bought such things. Fair enough. Swordy said militaria was a big thing hobby wise in Oz and they were collected - not because of Nazi ideology but because it was WW2 stuff (even though it was a replica). I suspect however some of those that buy are of the Ayran mindset however.

B was still pretty outraged. I had to calm him down a bit so he wouldn't get in swordy's face about it. Eventually I got him out of the stall again but not because B was saying things like 'how can Australians buy such things?'

But good on him. This is a man who wasn't even born when the wall came down. Yet he feels the history of his country, the good and the bad, so much that he's willing to tell a stranger that what he is doing is fucked by glamorizing the evil of B's country's past.

I wouldn't have the stones to do it. Even if I was pissed.

Later, on the way back, B (still pretty pissed), in his slurred German accent, confessed that 'the only rule I have not broken on my exchange is that of disfigurement'.

He then said he was planning on getting a big fuck off tatt in his last week here.

Go B. It was an absolute delight to meet him.

Wednesday, March 19, 2008

Norwegian Blue

'E's not pinin'! 'E's passed on! This parrot is no more! He has ceased to be! 'E's expired and gone to meet 'is maker! 'E's a stiff! Bereft of life, 'e rests in peace! If you hadn't nailed 'im to the perch 'e'd be pushing up the daisies! 'Is metabolic processes are now 'istory! 'E's off the twig! 'E's kicked the bucket, 'e's shuffled off 'is mortal coil, run down the curtain and joined the bleedin' choir invisibile!! THIS IS AN EX-PARROT!!

House of Reps seals 'death' of WorkChoices.

A Lovecraftian spin...

♫ ♪ ♫ Here staggers Tom Terrific ♫ ♪ ♫
♫ ♪ ♫ with his mythos cane ♫ ♪ ♫
♫ ♪ ♫ If you'd grasped it like Tom had grasped ♫ ♪ ♫
♫ ♪ ♫ You'd die screaming in your brain ♫ ♪ ♫

Advertising Jester makes it with aging fellow ad actor

Sydney, NSW; The Carpet Court Jester, laconic lead super stud of world rug merchant spokespeople, has scored it with a fellow ad actor after downing three bottles of Crème de menthe, a favourite '80s mixer in the time before alcho pops dominated the drinking landscape.

"I don't know who you are but you should know who I am. And I am an expert on laying carpets," slurred the Jester, still dressed in his courtly regalia having come straight from a night shoot in an empty warehouse where the actor had driven around in a golf buggy pointing his over sized novelty jester scepter in a suggestive manner at rolled up rug wares on offer at comically low prices.


The woman, whose age was disguised by the subdued lighting and the slowed brain reaction time of the now green-lipped carpet themed medieval entertainer, responded flirtatiously to the Jester's quips and within twenty minutes they had secured a room together at the local Formula One motel.


The Jester then engaged in numerous sex acts with the woman, including pulling a card from his wallet and announcing he was "...the vagina inspector..." and demanding to see the offending orifice. After alighting from said genital area he then stagger-crawled up her sated body and asked her to "check out my sex sheen", proceeding to then indicate the secretions that glistened upon his cheeks and around his St. Patrick's Day-esque mouth.

Left: the sexually successful jaunty jongleur

"You got the margarine grin," responded the woman who then revealed she was in fact Rita the Eta Eater, matriarch of spreadable dairy products from the 1980s.

"Well call your friend Eta, baby, and let's eat her together," said the Jester who then passed out on top of the former conflated Ballooning and Butter enthusiast.

Later the next day at the shoot the Carpet Court Jester confessed to a clearly disinterested crew member that Rita was the "best spread he'd ever had" and said he was now determined to conquer all the surviving top tier product spokeswomen from the last three decades of television should they still be alive and/or capable of coitus.

"Let's just say I'll be dipping something other than chalk in Mrs Marsh," added the Jester.

Editor's Note: For a previous sexy tale of CCJ in action see here. Updated with edit, July 2015.

Tom Terrific is all growed up

More Pwning

From Crikey Vs Biggest Loser. The pwning is bolded.

Obesity: when in doubt, declare war

Jeff Sparrow writes:

The war on drugs brought spiraling levels of addiction; the war on terror inflamed violence throughout the world. So here comes the war on fat.

Launching a $218 million program to test the health of Victorian workers, Premier John Brumby declared obesity a challenge “as big as climate change”.

Really? The Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change says unchecked global warming will destroy up to 70 per cent of plant and animal life. How, exactly, are the poor fatties responsible for anything of that order? Are they supposed to be eating endangered species or something?

But you can make almost any absurd claim on this topic, since the ways we respond to obesity have very little to do with rationality.

Take a look at The Biggest Loser, the Abu Ghraib of the war on fat. No-one emerges any healthier from the show. In fact, the rapid weight loss of the contestants promotes the kind of fad diets and insane exercise regimes that every reputable nutritionist condemns as medically disastrous. But that doesn’t matter.

The Biggest Loser rates so well since it takes moral outcasts (ie. fat people) and makes them perform a very public penance. Each episode resolves in tears, as the heaving, sweating tubsters acknowledge once again how they were blind but now they can see – and henceforth they will worship at the treadmill and the calorie counter.

Yes, obesity is a problem, and fat people often have a miserable time. But the reasons are social much more than medical. The fatter society gets, the more desirable thinness becomes – making those extra pounds another factor in the quiet unhappiness of most people’s lives.

As for the medical consequences, it’s remarkable how rubbery the consensus actually is. Our sedentary lifestyles are dangerous – but it’s physical activity rather than weight loss that makes the most difference to your health.

Paul Campos, a war on fat dissident, explains:

[F]or most people, increased physical activity does not produce significant long-term weight loss. And people who lose a lot of weight don't get any benefit over people who lose a little weight, so the benefit of weight loss by itself is medically nonexistent. But the good news is you don't have to become thinner to enjoy significantly improved health.

Even with type 2 diabetes, lifestyle changes can make a difference, without a loss of weight. As the unfortunately-named Linda Bacon says, it’s preferable to talk about lifestyles rather than obesity, since there’s no actually no proven method for achieving long-term weight loss, and many of the common techniques are actually dangerous.

Yet for politicians – especially social democratic politicians – a declaration of war on fat is irresistible precisely because it shows them doing something, yet commits them to absolutely nothing. Will there be less obesity in the future? Fat chance!

Jeff Sparrow is the editor of Overland magazine.

Hand writing

I write stuff on my left hand. I find I remember things that way.

Today I wrote 'EGGS'.

The pen I had was a marker pen.

A permanent marker as I later found out when I went to wash it off...

Pwned

The former Australian Dance Theatre director Meryl Tankard says the performances on So You Think You Can Dance Australia are so awful they should not even be considered dance.

"It's like a fast-food version of dance," she said... "It's a hideous show ...I think it's just terrible. It's good I guess that it gets people thinking about dance, but it's not really dance. "

Pwned

Tuesday, March 18, 2008

Ad whinge

Having a child with special needs must be very difficult. Extremely so. So this is not a dis against disabled people, or Tom, in any shape way or form.

But holy fucking shit I hate that Tom Terrific and his magic fucking cane ad. Not the subject matter - I've made that clear - just the inane piss boring mind dulling jingle that drones each time it comes on about TT and his MC.

You know what would have been nice? If they'd given TT big fuck off gold fish tank shoes, a leopard skin hat, and a fucking pimp cane with the jingle in the style of say Cyprus Hill. Now that be the shizzle.

I may even have given the charity money.

Monday, March 17, 2008

Time for other people to read Time too

I took a leaf out of Sarah and Gam's book today. Whilst at the ENT I finished my Time magazine. In fact I had two in my bag. So as I was leaving I took them out of my bag and stuck them in the mag rack at the Dr's. After-all they'd only get chucked out and I am doing a good thing by spreading the good oil that is Time to other corners of the earth.

Of course there's a worry that people saw my pulling mags from my bag as my returning stolen goods or something...

I like to think it makes up for that exhibit I stole from the Soviet exhibition in world expo 88.

Why, YouTube, Why?!

Ear is clear and brain is fine

Well went back to the ENT doc. I had to sit in a tiny booth to get my hearing tested. It felt like a really shit TARDIS. Hearing is fine apparently. The polyp taken from my ear was benign and there is no sign that the infection ate into my skull bones or created an abscess. The only bad thing really was I have negative pressure in one ear (not sure what that means - will have to google that).

Come on blogger, why doesn't the spell checker recognise google by now for fuck's sake?!

Anyway I do however have to have grommets stuck in. I had them stuck in when I was a kid - and it sucked - especially when later they were pulled out manually with tweezers while I was still conscious. This time its day surgery and they stay in for good - designed to vent out the middle ear if gunk builds up again.

So good news all in all. The old noggin is still intact.

Another classic theme

Here is Oz most of us only had reliable access to the national broadcaster the ABC in the 70's and mid 80's. I think I was in year two before I got to see commercial TV (9&8 regional north NSW). Anyway we missed out on the ABC on 80's cartoons which in retrospect (as the Simpson's so cleverly point out) were more merchandise vehicles than anything else. Instead we got BBC cartoons - generally 5-10 minute poorly animated efforts. In fact the production values on these cartoons were so low that they had one person doing all the voices. A tradition that some have kept with (eg Postman Pat, Fireman Sam, Thomas the Tank Engine etc).

One such effort was Little Blue. A tale of an elephant child attending school and basically being a kid doing kid things with kid adventures only he happened to be a fucking elephant. A blue one at that (see the theme as to why). His elephant powers, for want of a better word, were never touched on. Instead it was the same Grange Hill esq story lines of doing ballet to get out of an extra period of maths.

Link to theme is here.

Pugwash was another classic. And yes, despite the denials, there was a Master Bate in his crew.


A terrible choice

Today I had some toast. Yep, it went and got stuck again. Anyway I was sitting on the toilet having passed a motion when the choking urge to vomit came. I could either A) throw up on the floor or B) get off the toilet and throw up on my shits.

I chose A. I didn't clean it up too well because later thewife stepped in some I'd missed.

Gross.

Stuff you accept as a child even though it makes little sense

Like the Monkey Magic theme song



We were showing the noodle themes from our childhood in the 80's. I can remember shouting out the narration and the lyrics etc. Even though they were utterly baffling.

How awesome too that the BBC voice over talent decided that Monkey should call opponents in fights 'POOOOOOOFFFFTAAAAAAHs'. So un PC. Yet there it was in prime kiddies time.

Etiquette

Is it wrong to avoid having to leave the room and walk all the way to the kitchen to get a tissue and instead simply use a piece of used kitchen towel to blow your nose? The kitchen towel was dried out and everything.

Aren't I saving the planet or something by doing that?

Sunday, March 16, 2008

Quick movies snapshot

I taped Ray and Oh Brother Where are Thou? about a month back and finally watched them. I'd seen Oh Brother a few times - as ever awesome stuff (Coen Bros - how can you go wrong). First time I'd seen Ray.

It was a biopic of Ray Charles with Jamie Foxx as Ray.

Wow. Great film. Foxx acted the shit out of that role. Totally deserved the Oscar for it. Well worth watching.

PS Get the hearing test & results from my brain scan. Looking forward to it ... not.

Saturday, March 15, 2008

More night terrors from the pen of HM

Yep had a corker last night. My night terrors tend to be the room that I am sleeping in. ie it matches real life (where I am, position etc) except for a dream element. This morning's one was a woman - I think with short hair - who came and sat on the end of our bed. She was wearing a nightie. I freaked out, sat bolt upright, then managed to punch the wife in the head.

It wasn't like I turned to her and flecked her with spittle screaming 'YOU'RE DROPPED, SHORTY HAIR NIGHTY WOMAN'S MINE NOW' then smacked her one. No, it was more me flailing as I sat upright.

Needless to say TW was not impressed. She was woken from sleep by a blow to the noggin. She yelled.

At that point I'd worked out it was a dream and tried to calm her. She spent the next five minutes interrupting my sleepy back to nod drifting with slow moans of shocked pain. Fair call.

I wonder why I do this? And who the hell was that woman?

Where HM should have taken a leaf out of that Old Chinese dude's book

Remember Gremlins?

Gremlins was a kewl movie from the 80's that had some pretty decent effects, kewl story line, great dialogue and er Phoebe Cates.

It concerned the unwise purchase of a cute alien who came with some pretty full on handling instructions (which when violated turned it into many aliens and super ugo nasties at that).

Great stuff.

The handling instructions were delivered solemnly like Moses style carved in stone rules from on high. The last one was 'never, ever, feed them after midnight.'

I wish there was an old Chinese dude at my work. I wish when they asked for volunteers to take on an extra task that no one likes taking on because it's a pain in the anus (and you don't get anything extra for it) said dude had said 'never, ever, volunteer for extra duties.'

Because they will fuck you in your drive thru.

Today some fucked in the head departmental wide survey filtered down like a ball that odd pinball game Japanese octogenarians play to my desk. I had volunteered some time back to coordinate certain branch level activities that concerned the topic of the survey. It's supposed however to be done at the group level - like high up people. Instead it was being done by me. When I asked my boss why he told me that I was now a group level administrator for this volunteer coord role.

WTF?!

Group level! I don't get paid enough to take on this aggro. I only volunteered because I was sick and tired of people not doing it correctly and decided that I would do it and do it right and show them how to do it right.

Well fate showed me.

BAM - right in my drive thru.

So there you have it kids.

Never, ever, volunteer for extra duties.

Friday, March 14, 2008

Night feeds

Preparing for a night feed is a lot like preparing for a non furtive wank. There's the laying out of the bib (chosen receptacle), preparing the bottle (the tableau of fave pics), the TV turned low so you can watch a video during (soft music). Then the quiet careful feeding of the child (er ... well you know).

Takes about the same amount of time too.

I suppose the vomit is when you miss. Though if you get the latter on the shoulder you be having some issues.

More Rundle Goodness

From yesterday's Crikey

US08: Spitzer pokes a gaping hole in the institution of marriage

US correspondent Guy Rundle writes:

Tragedy, tragedy, tragedy... New York governor Eliot Spitzer resigned today, after 24 hours living in the delusion that he might be able to tough it out – a folly, it is reported, indulged by his wife, Silda Wall Spitzer – yes, yes dear reader but that's her name – who has been the object of a mixture of sympathy and derision for standing by her man at the press conference, as everything he tells the assembled crowd deeply humiliates her. Other wives have done similar stooge duty, including the wife of New Jersey governor Jim McGreevy who had cheated on his wife with a man. Why did Silda get slandered?

Was she simply the one standing there at the exact moment that the "solid couple" press conference crossed the threshold and it became blatantly obvious how sadistic (or sado-masochistic), strange and not a little embarrassing it all was? Even on the screen, the tension is pretty unbearable and most people, the adulterer included no doubt, would prefer if the wronged wife burst in half way through yelling in Italian and stabbed him in the fat of the arm with a letter-opener.

The whole thing would be over in seconds and Spitzer or whoever could fall to the floor, bleeding profusely but not dangerously, moaning, "yes yes thank you I am a bastard I deserve this" salty tears mingling with blood, as the wife considers pushing her stilletto heel through his neck or clutching his bloody form to her bre-st, forgiving all. That would make her respected. Hell, it might even make her governor.

These options are not open to American politicians, not even in New York. Nor is any suggestion of one obvious reason why she might be happy to stand beside him – the possibility that he ain't the only one in the marriage playing the field. Maybe they've got an arrangement. Maybe she lets him off the leash.

Maybe she regards it as outsourcing an unpleasant task, like getting a Haitian in to clean the grouting. Quite aside from the hypocrisy, and increasing questions about whether state funds paid for Kristen to drink the Mayflower Hotel minibar dry at $2000 an hour, the plain fact is that Spitzer would have no less chance of political survival, even if he and Ms Spitz revealed that they were happy companions who kept the wheels of marriage greased elsewhere. Betraying his wife is not Spitzer's crime – betraying the institution of marriage is.

The only person who ever got away with that sort of idea was of course Bill Clinton – if there is ever a situation in which cosmic karma permits only person on earth to get away with it, it will always be Bill Clinton. Remember the crisis early in his run for the presidency in '91, when Gennifer Flowers came out of the Appalachian woodwork at the behest of the right wing machine? Bill and Hillary went on 60 Minutes, the latter remarking that Bill had "caused pain in our marriage" and later that he was "a hard dog to keep on the porch", a quote I've always thought summed up Team Clinton in a single image. Effectively it was an acknowledgement that Bill did what he liked and yet the show stayed on the road, and Hill's subsequent rage at the Lewinsky affair was less at Bill's infidelity than at his lack of self-discipline.

Americans would never accept that as a general principle – Spitzer's sin is less the probable pain he caused another person, than blowing a big hole in the idea of stable, happy, complete marriage. As American society has become increasingly atomised, the pressure on social institutions – above all family and marriage – to preserve the fiction that modern social life is not a negotiated, partial, compromised process. Yet precisely because American social life is so atomised, divorce is pretty much as high as it's ever been. Thus what is required is ideal marriage that floats above the real social landscape like a star on the horizon. For such people Eliot Spitzer was a perfect figure, the projected embodiment of dull suburbia onto New York City.

Spitzer was a continuation of the Rudy Giuliani's drive to rid NYC of its sleaze – and in the process, much if its fun, excitement and creativity. In his attack on prost-tution he drew on both right wing moralising and left-liberal feminism – instituting Swedish-style laws which heavily criminalised seeking prost-tution, while leaving the prost-tute uncharged with an offence. By his own laws he's liable for significant jail time – except that he campaigned with the local member not in New York, but in DC, where coming down hard on bought s-x would be like instituting a no-d-ckhead zone in King Street. For many, the revelation that Spitzer is lustful, foolish, driven, vainglorious, hypocritical, obsessive and concupiscent – ie is a man – is another pockmark in the self-image of the US as a "virtuous republic", so unlike those crazy Eurotrash frogs or spankable Brits. It would be wrong to underestimate the effect this has on swinging – not that type – voters looking for the shining light from candidates, and wildly wrong to assume that it would be viewed through anything like an Australian lens where someone like Bob Hawke could become PM by sacking his girlfriend and rehiring his wife, to quote, I think, Patrick Cook.

No, Americans take these things seriously, but it's not them it's a tragedy for. It's the press, desperate to keep the story running even with a dearth of new information for the same reason that schoolkids in algebra class will stay at the windows watching two dogs rooting in the playground long after the thrill has gone – because those quadrilateral equations, grim before, are unbearable now. So, with leaden feet the fourth estate plods back to its desk to talk the same old topics round and round: the white/black split in Mississippi (not as bad as suggested, though more polarised than in South Carolina), the Florida/Michigan brouhaha (increasingly likely to be a by-mail primary), staff slip-ups (after Samantha Power left the Obama campaign), former veep candidate Geraldine Ferraro has quit Clintonville after saying Obama got a free ride "cos he is black", the floating Clinton-Obama ticket question...

And the one actual story, which is the slow leaching of support from Obama. In Pennsylvania where he's been campaigning for a few days, the usual personal appearance effect isn't working – in fact support is starting to flow to Hills, now around 56% to 43%. She was always the Penn state favourite, but that lead that early is hard yards for Captain Audacity. Does he have something more, some new tack? Though he would never have counted on a super tuesday slam down, he might have expected it would be done by now. He doesn't need to win Pennsylvania but he needs to hold Hills to around a five point margin (which would give her only a net gain of about 6 delegates), to keep looking like the coming thing. Maybe he's hoping that Hillary had one, just one, revenge shag down in Arkansas, during Bill's dog days. Somewhere out there Little Rock's only librarian with a mood ring and a body-shirt and some fond memories somewhere in the attic may be the key to his success.

Computer rage

Ever see the fat dude beat up the computer mpeg? It was big in the late 90's. Lots of us saw it. Computer didn't work, he beat the side of the monitor then crunched the shit out of it. The irony is of course the monitor... not the computer.

Today I had that. I was there. I had fantasies of the piece of shit I was using being thrown into the corridor and the living shit smashed out of it Office Space style. I actually had to count to 10 at one stage.



In fact there it is.

I love computers. I've used them since Apple IIe phase back in the early 80's. I've used computers since floppies were floppy and a mouse was still just a furry rodent. But I swear the inexplicable failure rate of computers seems to have grown in the past few years where doing something as simply as trying to start fucking outlook is enough sometimes to shit it. Maybe it's because we expect more? Maybe it's just because Windows is a piece of shit.

Bill Gates. You have a lot to answer for.

Thursday, March 13, 2008

Another shitty thing about being fat part II

When you're going to the toilet (a number one) and your ID tag is clipped to your collar. Because your man boob pushes it up at an angle so your upside you is staring you in the face while you look down during wees.

Now that's crap parking

As punters know the parking at my work sucks anal hair. If you're not there by 930 am then you spend up to 40 minutes circling the various parks trying to find something. Then you get desperate.

Yesterday I parked in a tree. Yep a tree.

Not in it like in the trunk with the car leaning out humorously. But rather it had low hanging branches about two feet off the ground.

Since I have a shit car I don't really give a crap about the paint work. So in I went with a SCREECH and a SCRAAAAAPE and pushed the foliage out of the way.

When I got out I also noticed there was some sort of WARNING: High Gas Pressure! sign near the tree.

Is that an issue?

Wednesday, March 12, 2008

Another shitty thing about being fat

When you clean your teeth your a-cup esq man boobs wobble like Jack Thompson's arse in Sunday Too Far Away.

Tuesday, March 11, 2008

Best. Spam. Ever.

Today at work a piece of Spam made it past the filter. It was by and large your bog standard 'Mr Thing Thing died in plane crash, money unclaimed, want to spirit out the country, will you help me Obi wan Kenobi, you're my only hope' Nigerian style effort.

Only the cockhead that sent it cocked the amount up.

The grand total was ... $US37.00.

Awesome stuff. I fully forwarded it around to colleagues to see how many people wanted to go in with me to get that dosh.



'Thirty seven dollars? Mwa ha ha ha ha ha.'

Jackson has bad dream

In Xanadu did Kubla Khan - A stately pleasure-dome decree, Bahrain; Celebrity oddball, Michael "Whacko" Jackson, today woke in terror when he suffered a post traumatic laced dream concerning the time he was nearly immolated during the filming of a Pepsi commercial.

'THE HATE JUICE!' screamed the Zebra-esq pop rocker of the millennium as he suddenly entered a wakened state, sitting bolt upright and upsetting the children, the scream referring to the drink Pepsi which he blamed as the genesis of all his ills.

'It was the hate juice that started my downward slide,' said the soft voiced be-gloved musician as he clambered out of the triple decker king sized bunk bed that he labeled his 'special sleepy space'.

'If I hadn't caught fire which caused me to abuse pain pills then all that unpleasant stuff that happened subsequent to that event - the multiple court cases and settlements, my Neverland ranch being sold from beneath me and my self imposed Charlie Chaplain like exile to the magical dust Kingdom of the Arab peoples - likely would not have occurred,' added the supertainer. 'It's all Pepsi's fault.'

Later Jackson, hopped up on 'Jesus Juice', took his stretch hummer for a spin in the dunes, giggling manically as he offered various innocent shepherd boys roaming the countryside a tour of its private cavernous insides.

Wouldn't it be awesome ...

... if there was a website called Cockwhat that let you anonymously upload pictures of nobs and you could then stick in friend's email addresses and the site would send them nob pictures and they'd have to guess whose nob it was?

Yeah that be sweet. Only you'd fully have to remember not to write your name on it first.

Isn't it amazing what gets discussed at a gaming table...

Cher to World

'Sometimes a battleship canon is just a honking great metaphoric donger'.

Another fine band name

Lounging Mankini

Monday, March 10, 2008

Today Tonight = Twats

Look it's probably skimming the definition of tautology to say TT are twats but still needs to be said again.

Today's effort was on that hit and run driver whose lawyer got him off the more serious charge of culpable driving and instead he was done for dangerous driving which carries a lesser penalty. As usual Peter 'Australian's ID should have their religion on it' Faris, was available to give his rights retarding views by bleating on about how juries should be told of prior convictions of a defendant during the trial. Despite the fact the reason priors aren't known is so juries are not predisposed to find someone guilty on a fucking vibe.

Anyway TT sniffily told the viewers that the defendant had legal aid. Understandable - the dude is jobless. However they prefaced it with 'tax payer funded'.

And? Of course Legal Aid is tax payer funded. It's there so poor people can receive legal representation. You know, so the system is fair on people without money. You see taxes pay for things like roads, hospitals, police, judicial systems etc. When you are charged with a crime and if you can't afford legal representation then you get some from the government so your trial is as fair to you as possible.

That's how the law works. The defendant in this case was lucky and scored himself a good lawyer.

I feel sad for the families of those that died. I do. It sucks to lose a loved one - especially to a fuckwit that had prior convictions. Though of course priors are taken into account at sentencing - just not during the trial. Again to make it fair for those going through the proceedings. It's likely this dude will cop the maximum penalty - possibly served one after the other (if that's how it can be done in Oz; ie 6 x5 year terms).

But for Today Tonight to attack a basic principle of western law - that if you cannot afford legal representation it will be provided to you - is nothing less than Laura Norder hairy chest thumping wankery. All the more powered along by rent-a-comment types like Faris who see nothing wrong with retarding the rights of the many for those few occasions when the few may slip the net as a result of having those broad rights. Such as juries not knowing previous convictions lest it colour their deliberations.

On a side note Faris recently had a "glowing" 'this is Peter Faris, he's awesome' bio snapshot in the Good Weekend. It mentioned how he likes to rip DVDs to his hard disk to watch them in bed or somesuch. Isn't that technically illegal?

At last, we take a stand against the dark side

From the Cynthia Banham article.

Four years after the Howard government refused to ratify the Optional Protocol to the United Nations Convention against Torture, the Rudd Government is moving to sign up Australia. It is also considering introducing legislation outlawing torture under the Commonwealth Criminal Code.


Can you believe the last government actually refused to sign this convention? Oh wait, yes we can.

Fuckwits.

Sunday, March 09, 2008

Monstrous Johnson

Good name for a band ... or super villain.

Saturday, March 08, 2008

Damn you grods

Stop being profiled on you tube! You'll all end up with swelled heads or something.

Friday, March 07, 2008

Molmane

Remember this?




Today on the bus I sat behind someone who had not just a mole, but a molemane.

Yes, that's right, a molmane. Like a lion.

Look I understand that one cannot control if one has moles. And it is sad if someone has a prominent mole - such as upon their face. And having had a large facial mole (nixed back in '89) I know too that the mole often has hairs sprouting either around it or from it, much like a pot plant.

But, this was a fucking molmane. Thick bristly hairs clustered around the mole like a thicket of triffids. It was breathtaking. I couldn't stop staring at it. It's not like he couldn't see the hair either, it was fairly noticeable. And tweezer technology has come a long way even since I was a lad so such things can be maintained in a hair free state far more easily than before.

The worst thing was that he had a moley, though hair free, girlfriend. How could I tell? They made out in front of me.

... mole ...

GNW's Claire Hooper presents sneak preview of next week's outfit

Thursday, March 06, 2008

Ol' nether back lips is out talking again

Alas Howard opened his yapper - receiving some gratuitous award from some righty place holder for neocons.

Here's some snippets

"In the protracted struggle against Islamic extremism there will be no stronger weapon than the maintenance by Western liberal democracies of a steadfast belief in the continuing worth of our own national value systems. And where necessary a soaring optimism about the future of freedom and democracy,'' he said.

"We should not think that by trading away some of the values which have made us who we are will buy us either immunity from terrorists or respect from noisy minorities. If the butter of common national values is spread too thinly it will disappear altogether."

He also praised family units, saying marriage remained a "bedrock social institution".

"Taxation laws should promote, not penalise, marriage. The taxation system should generously recognise the cost of raising children,'' he said. "This is not middle-class welfare. It is merely a taxation system which with some semblance of social vision."

Here's some values. The right to know why you are being charged. The right to have legal representation. The right for people to know you've been detained by the cops. etc etc etc. All "values" eroded by Howard in his mad effort to cast 1.7% of Australians as the evil within for base political purpose.

People are aware too of how much it costs to have children. On his watch having the important house to put them in went from x5 annual wage to around x8.

Thanks fuckstick.

Let's hope you don't accidentally sit on your award when you step naked out of the shower.

Oh - Americans - by the way. Our anthem, as boring as it is, is Advance Australia Fair. Not Waltzing Matilda. Try learning that for next time.

PS Grod's take is here

Dear "muscle car" driver

Alas my speed limit sticking to is a sticking point for some. Which is why you likely feel the need to stick about 2cm from my arse on the way home. Also, when I turned off the roundabout it's good you gunned the fuck out of your car so you could swerve into the next lane and use the 3 metres of space until the lanes merged to get ahead of me.

I apologise for tooting my horn, it was instinctive given the near hit we had, and I understand why your fuckwit passenger mate felt the need to stick his non penis pulling hand out the window and flip me off.

I do hope you were also able to pass that red car you then started tail gating at some point thirty seconds later.

I sincerely hope you and your fucked in the head guests don't power drive your car off a corner and slam into a tree severely maiming one and all.

Yours,

HM

Gere gerbil has pancreatic cancer

Hollywood, California: Richard Gere's gerbil, known as 'Gerby', today announced that he has pancreatic cancer and is unlikely to live longer than a few weeks.

Left: Gere ... Gerby

'It's true, I heard from the vet today,' said 'Gerby'. 'So I thought I owed it to my fans to let them know.'

'Gerby' and Gere have been in a symbiotic relationship since the mid 80's, the Gerbil assisting Gere's career - behind him 100% of the time.

'I shout up career advice, help him with his lines, and provide a unique cleaning service,' said 'Gerby'. 'And I feel like my passing from Richard's life will leave him feeling both alone and empty inside.'

'Gerby' said that his time with Gere has been a blessing, the gerbil fed the very best tasty morsels that money can buy.

'Nuts, chicken liver slivers, pate, even juice all delivered to me through a powerful mechanical straw,' said 'Gerby'. 'What small rodent could ask for more?'

Richard Gere's manners are also impeccable, the Hollywood star never abusing his celebrity status with his tiny friend.

'Richard Gere may not be an officer, but he is one of nature's gentlemen,' added 'Gerby'.

Richard Gere said he will host a 'living farewell' for 'Gerby' and has ordered a set of medical stirrups to make himself more comfortable for the event, as well as acquiring a megaphone for guests, such as the Dali Lama, to shout their condolences through.